


poo (name subject to change)

by romanceinbusan



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Divine Pulse (Fire Emblem), Fluff, Guilt, Kinda, M/M, NG+ setting, No smut in this household, Pain, Post-Time Skip, Pre-Time Skip, [graphic], byleth big brain, byleth divine pulses back to the beginning of the game?, how graphic is too graphic? i’ll just tag it to be safe, lin’s just tryna sleep, major character death but divine pulse fixes it dw, tries to fix everything
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:07:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25837000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanceinbusan/pseuds/romanceinbusan
Summary: byleth divine pulses back to the beginning of the game and attempts to fix all the mistakes he made the first time. lin just wants to sleep... and maybe help byleth too ig[actual/better description coming soon 😳]
Relationships: Linhardt von Hevring/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 3
Kudos: 6





	poo (name subject to change)

The incoherent screams that ricocheted off the long deserted buildings was enough for Byleth to know something had gone wrong. A rushed look around himself informed him who it was this time. No more than a few meters to his left, through the chaos of warfare, laid a certain mop of pink slumped over her wyvern. _Hilda._ Without as much as a bat of his eye, Byleth reached for yet another divine pulse. Just as his eyes met with horrified green ones, the world around him warped into a strange purply void, Claude’s expression changing from terror to steady concentration. Not but 5 minutes earlier those same striking green eyes had been dulled over and lifeless, to which Byleth pulsed again. The time before that, Dorothea had been the one slumped over, painted in red, and not too soon before that, Felix. He knew he was running out of sothis magic, _oh boy did he know._

With each divine pulse a considerable amount of stamina left him, not to be replenished again with the new timeline he’d create. He’d realized he was running low but he’d be damned if he let hilda die. Not now, and certainly not here. With a slew of curses finding his way from his shaking breath, he hastily ordered Linhardt and Sylvain to Hilda’s side, the former on healing and the latter on defense. A long streak of blood managed to crawl itself out of Byleth’s nose from an overuse of sothis’s power as unconsciousness threatened to over take him. No. He had to keep going. A now alive Dorothea and Felix ran about clearing a straight path for a healthy and alive Claude to take. A path that led to their objective of this particular battle; Hubert.

It had been 7 long months of grief filled battles, each fight against the empire taking away one of Byleth’s long lost students. The first battle he’d fought in the war after his “awakening” he was shortly reunited with Bernadetta, an awkward yet charming girl he’d embroider and sew with before the war hit. Her death brought on another, when an enraged Caspar came barreling out to avenge her, perhaps unconsciously using some of the combat arts Byleth had once taught to him. The next battles brought on the falling of Ferdinand Von Aegir, who Byleth had long learned all the intricacies of tea brewing from, and Petra, whomst taught him all about the different hunting styles from Brigid.

The blue lion students weren’t at all safe from the confusion and chaos the war brought, not to mention the irrationality from their leader and king. Ingird who once fought by his side then laid motionless beside his right, a dying Dimitri to his left with dedue looming over him. However, it seemed those sacrifices wouldn’t serve to be enough to end this war, and their next victim would be the cunning boy he’d train with far into the early morning.

Wiping the streaks of blood off his face, Byleth gave Claude a weary nod of the head to swerve as an order, not daring to do much more in his state. Claude must have realized how weakened his “teach” had gotten, and with a swift nod of determination, Claude set out to hover over Hubert.

“It's over, lapdog. You’re military rule is at its end.” he spoke with conviction.

“For every step you take along that path, our thorns will cut into your heels.” retorted the dark haired boy, each word rolling off his tongue laced with poison.

“Ooh! That sounds painful. I'll have to wear thicker soles for the march.”

“If your boots are too heavy, you won't be able to lift your feet. Be prattle enough.”

On any other day Byleth might’ve chuckled at the banter. Might’ve mentally cursed Claude for teasing a man before he were to silence him. However, Hubert was not alone. From within one of the supposedly empty houses littered around, a small battalion of archers rapidly attack their perpetrator. From where Byleth had positioned himself against a crumbling wall, he watched the battalion quickly litter the wyvern rider with arrows. All too quickly, with appalled gasp and grieving screams, the man was knocked off of his wyvern, tens of arrows lodged in mortally damaging places. _Fuck._ He heard Linhardt’s gasp, Ignatz’s cry, Hilda’s scream, Lysithea’s shriek, and other various horrified noises from the rest of his team. If Byleth had a heartbeat, it would surely be beating hard enough to drown out the terrified sounds around him.

He knew he was more than out of mojo, his body and head screamed it to him, but it didn’t matter. He put all of the energy he could muster into divine pulsing just _one_ more time. All of the grief he had felt in the past months, all of the innocent students fallen by his hand, all of the worries for the future and the dread of the upcoming battles; he put all he could into this one last divine pulse.

Electricity shook the insides of his brain, hundreds spiders writhed underneath his skin, heavy blood pooled out of him like a damn breaking under pressure. Oh goddess, _please_ let this work.

Whether it was to the overwhelming pain or a complete lack of energy, Byleth hit the bloodsoaked floor with a hard thump, as the sounds of screaming and battle faded away… _Please please please._

****************

**********

*****

**

Whether he was dreaming or he was seeing through his eyelids, Byleth didn’t know. As mush as he’d wanted- no _needed_ to get up, he couldn’t so much as lift a finger. With as much as he could see without actually moving his head, he looked frantically for the easy going green eyed man he had grown to call his good friend. With eyes still blurry and the sporadic battle moving so quickly, he couldn’t recognize a single face, let alone Claude or Hubert. What the hell?

Once again, Byleth attempted to reach up to rub the blurriness from his eyes, to no avail. Was we supposed to just simply watch? Perhaps this was his punishment for all the lives he has taken so far. Now he'd be forced to watch as others took away his people as ruthlessly as he once had taken theirs. But no matter how hard Byleth tried to focus on a face, it was inrecognizable. All until he finally landed his eyes on a woman he knew all to well.

Rhea? He tried to call out to her, to ask where the bloody hell she has been these past 5½ years, but, once again all he could do was watch. It was dark and rain came down hard, a stark contrast to the hot sun that blared down on them throughout their battle.

Still no sight of Claude and the others…

Rhea was charging at a burly man, screaming and panting and...Byleth had seen this battle before. From the large man with the familiar hero’s relic, to the pained cries of Rhea as she inevitably crashed her sword down into his body. After a moment of silence, save for her panting, Rhea reached for the sword the man had dropped and hugged it to her chest, “He’s gone now, mother.” she said between shaky breaths, once more confirming the deja vu of the weird dream Byleth had had all those years ago.

Why was he dreaming about this now? Before much time could be passed pondering, the scene of the red canyon fizzled away, only to be replaced by a very familiar stone throne with a very very familiar green haired girl lounging atop it.

Perhaps startled by Byleth’s shocked gasp, Sothis slowly shifted to walking up, sleepily rubbing her eyes as she notice’s byleth presence. At a loss of words himself, Byleth could only stare. How was she here? Did this mean she unfused with him? Is he dead? Oh of course, he had pushed himself too far, got himself killed, and now Sothis was here to chastise him? Hundreds of unanswered questions and theories whizzed around in his head as Sothis brought herself out of her slumber.

With a look of confusion and unfamiliarity, Sothis looked upon the stunned man before her, and muttered the same exact words she had first exchanged with him all those years ago.

“Oh my, what could have brought you here?”


End file.
